


Unmasked

by StarsAndUniverses



Category: The Transformers (Cartoon Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Autobot to Decepticon, Decepticon to Autobot, Defection
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-11
Updated: 2020-01-30
Packaged: 2020-08-19 09:10:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20207272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarsAndUniverses/pseuds/StarsAndUniverses
Summary: Soundwave is a true Decepticon, ever loyal to the amazing Lord Megatron. The last thing he ever expects is to find a kindred spirit in Optimus Prime.





	1. The Beginning

My spark curled up, disgusted by what I could see. The taste of burnt copper filled my mouth and my voice box let out a strangled sound I would only expect from Starscream. Before I could stop myself, my hands flew up to my faceplate, half hoping to stop any more horrible noises leaving my mouth and half keeping in place, protected from any invasive attacks. 

I shouldn’t have felt that way. I was loyal to Megatron and his faction. That was it. I’d long since put aside my own sensibilities and such, allowing myself to be thoroughly led and to obediently follow. I gave Megatron full command of myself and even of my symbiotes. I had nothing more to give him, nothing more to dedicate to the Decepticon cause. Nothing else that would  _ matter _ .

“It may not matter,” the stupid, traitorous voice in my head said, “But that is only more reason that you should have no trouble giving it.”

My one selfish possession was my privacy. My face was my most, my  _ only _ , closely guarded secret, possibly the most guarded secret in the entire Decepticon army. Everyone knew about Starscream craving of power, most mechs knew of Shockwave’s illicit experiments, some mechs knew of Thundercracker’s extensive stash of banned high grade, and at least I knew of the close relationship the seeker trine had behind closed doors where they could not be accused of any weakness. 

But no one knew of my face but the mech with the secret to keep. Not Rumble, nor Frenzy, or Laserbeak, or even Ravage, had ever seen it. Not even Lord Megatron. It was my own secret, to guard zealously. I would be utterly distraught to have it exposed to two armies worth of mechs, the Autobots and Decepticons. 

Perhaps those thoughts were the reason that when I saw Lord Megatron - my glorious Lord Megatron, I struggled to remember - ruthlessly tear off the faceplate of an equally distraught Optimus Prime, my spark ached in bitter sympathy. The Prime’s bright blue eyes flared in a way I’d never seen them flare. Over the war, I’d seen the Prime take pity on Megatron, direct his full rage at Megatron, become broken by Megatron’s stubbornness, take joy in Megatron’s defeats. But never had I seen him be imbued with pure, uncensored terror. 

The Prime did as I would have done. He dropped everything. He dropped the gun in his hand, he dropped his chin to his chest, he dropped himself to the ground, and in a frantic, supersonic moment worthy of Blurr, he slammed his hands to cover his barren faceplates. 

The sleazy, sadistic grin on my Lord’s face left none of his pleasure to the imagination. One solid whack of a mace to the side of the Prime’s helm sent him sprawling, choosing to block his face from the world’s optics rather than the mace. To his full credit, he tried to continue. He mustered up the courage - courage I’d have never mustered were I in his position - to move one hand away and try to swing with his ax at Megatron. But with only one arm available to go on the offense, nothing was there to block Lord Megatron mace from slamming into the Prime’s side again and send him flying to the ground. 

Perhaps it was the Prime’s pained face that forced me to take a step forward. Perhaps it was his wide, fearful eyes that I could see myself in that made me take another. Perhaps it was the struggle he made to keep a hand on his face no matter how much Megatron battered him and slammed him into the ground. Perhaps it was the strangled cry, not of a beaten down mech, but a horribly humiliated one. 

But I know for a fact that when Megatron, my horrible, cruel Lord Megatron, pulled Optimus’s hands into stasis cuffs, putting his horribly scarred lips and skeletal jaw on display for the whole world, and as I watched streams of energon be coughed through gritted denta, I broke into a full sprint to grab my Lord’s arm before it rained down on a helpless Optimus Prime. 


	2. Death

Soundwave is not a stupid mech. And neither am I. I’m second in command, he is third for his faction, but I have more in common with him than I would ever have with Starscream. Had we been on the same side, I’m certain he would be SIC and I, his apprentice. The Prime would have been too trusting, placing such a dangerous mech so high, where he could bring it all tumbling down. But perhaps, I would have been too cautious, for, as Megatron knew, Soundwave was not one for betrayal. 

I admit, however, I too have had my shortcomings. On the rare occasion when I see Jazz out on the field, bloody and broken, I wish I could go in and save him, as he has many times saved me. Yet, I keep my head on my shoulders and push those thoughts back immediately. I know what my use is and I know where I stand, no matter what my desires may be. 

To see a mech so similar to me act on instinct is nothing short of terrifying. He did not seem in control of his actions and he did not seem to be thinking clearly. He seemed as if he had been possessed, possibly by a greater power or possibly by his own sympathy, but as soon as I saw him run up to grab his leader’s hand before it laid down on our poor Prime, I picked up the nearest gun and took aim for Megatron. 

I have never been the best sniper. There is a reason that I remain a tactician. But at the moment, that was the least of my worries. The bullet did not need to hit, it just needed to distract. I said a short prayer, hoping I would not hit Soundwave, but I would never be sure. I saw Jazz reaching for the rifle in my hands, and, while yanking it away, I pulled the trigger. Only Primus could know how off my original shot had been, for the new trajectory shot Megatron directly in the hand. 

Pandemonium happened after that. Soundwave scrambled to give the Prime his mangled faceplate back to provide at least some cover for him. Megatron screamed out orders that, for some reason, my battle computer completely missed and couldn’t assimilate. I froze, I crashed, and I crashed  _ hard _ , falling completely limp onto the ground. The Autobots were focused on Prime, as they rightfully should be, and rushed to evacuate him. In the mess and rubble, they couldn’t see I had glitched out and been rendered useless. They hadn’t meant to leave me behind. 

At least that was what Starscream had told me. 

Loud footsteps echoed down the metal hallways towards my cell. Megatron again, maybe? I wasn’t sure who I wanted to come torture me more. Megatron was brutal and straightforward and it hurt like slag, but Shockwave was slow, methodical, and I didn’t know how much more my processors could take of feeling a scalpel slip through my doorwings like butter. Megatron might get carried away, might kill me on accident. But as the days went by, that thought felt more like a mercy. 

The footsteps stopped in front of my cell. The hum of vents was louder than that of Shockwave, who kept every part of himself as unassuming as possible except the parts he would use to shred seams and wires in a most dramatic fashion. Not Megatron either, for I would have heard him coming far before he had entered the room - he tended to come to me when he was raving mad, using me as a punching bag rather than Starscream. 

Then who?


	3. Chapter 3

Rumble hadn’t stopped crying since yesterday. Frenzy just didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know what to say. They’d been the only two cassettes out when Soundwave made the bolt for Optimus and before Soundwave could come back for them, a swarm of grateful Autobots had already whisked him away. 

“F-Frenzy, I wanna go to Boss!” 

“Rumble, we can’t! We don’t know what will happen if we try to leave! We’re lucky they haven’t thrown us down the trash chute yet!” 

“I-I miss him! I miss him and Ratbat and Laserbeak and Ravage!” 

“I know, bro, I do, too. But we can’t exactly do anything right now. You know just as well as I that they patched up all the ways we can get out of here.”

“It’s cold in here, Frenz.”

“I know, Rum, I know.” 

Rumble clung to Frenzy’s waist, shivering hard. They’d been in the brig since Soundwave left with the Autobots. Captured and imprisoned, to be used like a common bargaining chip. It was sickening, in more ways than one. 

“Do you think that Boss will come back for us?”

“I dunno, Rum. I don’t want him to get hurt.”

“Me neither. I… I hope he leaves us behind.”

“... I guess so.” 

“He’ll come back for you. Optimus will make sure he gets you two back.” 

The voice scraped across their ears, sending a sinister jolt through their circuits. All the torturing that Prowl went through was done right in his cell, Megatron finding a way to hurt him and threaten them in one fell swoop. 

“W-what about you? W-wouldn’t they try to get you out first?” 

Prowl stopped talking after that. 

* * *

“Prowl, get up!” 

Prowl forced his optics alight. 

“Day after wretched day, I suppose. Stand up, prisoner.” 

“What do you want, Starscream?” 

“What do I  _ always _ want? Put your guard down for one fragging second, you dolt.” 

“And why should I trust you?” Prowl turned his head with a creak of rust to glare at Starscream. Starscream’s eyes were red and sad, seeming as if he could cry at any moment. 

“Because I’m not trying to hurt you. Here, take this,” Starscream slid a cube of energon between the bars of the cell, “You need to refuel.”

“What did you put in it?” Prowl kicked it back out. 

“Oh for Primus’s sake! It wasn’t poisoned the first time, or the second time, or the third or fourth!” Starscream took a sip to emphasize his point. 

“Why are you helping me?” Prowl dared to whisper as he picked up the cube and began to scan it himself. 

“...shouldn’t you not question the hand that feeds you? Literally?”

Prowl took an experimental sip and the cool feeling of a solid high-grade sent a shudder through his systems. “High grade?” 

Starscream waved him off with a hand, avoided his optics. “Jet-grade. It’s part of my ration.” 

“But, don’t you need this? You’ll fall out of the sky.” 

“As if,” he scoffed, “I know my limits. Plus, after this long at war, my systems can function with a bit extra mid-grade. I assure you, I’m fine.  _ Your _ systems, however, are most certainly not accustomed to that slag Megatron feeds you.” 

“...thank you.”

“Don’t mention it. Seriously, don’t. Megatron will have my wings if he finds out. You’re lucky that Soundwave isn’t here! No one can figure out why the security cameras are out.” 

Prowl took another long sip and let it settle in his tank. “They are?” 

“Of course they are!” Starscream stomped, “How do you think I’m able to do this? Did you think I’d leave them on?” 

“You… you deactivated them?”

“I’ll have you know that I’m smarter than I look. I’m not just a pair of pretty wings, you know,” Starscream held out a hand for the empty cube that Prowl had finished. Prowl passed it back, flinching away from the brush of their hands. 

As he strutted off and reached the door, Prowl couldn’t help but call out, “Starscream!”

He stopped with his hand on the doorknob. “Yes?”

“...does Megatron actually rip your wings off?”

Star sent a cackle over his shoulder. “You know, if you didn’t know that already, then your information department is seriously lacking.” 

And out the door he went. 


	4. Chapter 4

In Prowl’s permanent absence - the Allspark didn’t let people come and go as they pleased - Soundwave’s sudden show of faith towards the Prime got him the position of second in command. More traditional mechs like Ironhide suggested Jazz be moved up and Soundwave be TIC, but the Prime insisted that Soundwave had proven himself enough to be trusted. 

This also meant most of the planning to get his children back fell to him as well. 

Megatron may have killed Prowl, probably out of revenge for shooting his hand, and he’d gladly shown them his mangled, removed doorwings. For a Praxian, that was practically a death sentence. But if Soundwave could help it, not a single fragging scratch was going to end up on Rumble and Frenzy, even if it took killing Megatron himself to get them home. 

“You really care about them, don’t you?” Jazz sat across the table from him, helping him map the traps in the vents and the weak points of the Nemesis' hull. 

“Clearly,” Soundwave stiffly muttered. What kind of question was that? Was it a veiled threat? Was it probing for a weak spot? Wasn’t Jazz supposed to be on  _ his _ side now? Or rather, wasn’t he on Jazz’s?

“My mech, you’re tense. I’m just trying to make small talk. You’ve been dead silent.”

“Soundwave: Always silent.” 

Jazz chuckled lightly, a hidden veil of sadness behind it. “Yeah, I suppose you are. Y-y’know, Prowl was like that too,” Jazz’s hands slowed to a stop on the paper. 

“...Jazz: Friend of Prowl?”

Jazz laughed sharply, mirthlessly, “Yeah, in the records anyways!”

Soundwave stared at the map, pondering what the hidden meaning behind that could possibly be. He wasn’t fond of making a fool of himself but perhaps the risk was worth it this once, for the sake of making amends. “Jazz and Prowl: … More than friends?” 

“I’m kinda happy you didn’t know actually, that means that the info never got out to the Cons, which-which is good, obviously, it was something I was really worried about, well, probably more worried about it than Prowl, not to say he wasn’t worried, you know how Prowl can get-”

“Jazz: Is rambling.”

“Megatron wouldn’t actually kill him, do you think?” Jazz blurted out, clearly having wanted to ask this whole time, “You-you know him! Prowl would be better for information, there’s  _ so _ much info that Megatron could get from him, he wouldn’t kill him that fast! R-right?” 

“...Behavior of Megatron: Very strange. Soundwave: Would have advised against killing Prowl. Soundwave: Highly regarded within Decepticons.” 

“...do you… do you think he killed him because you weren’t there?”

Jazz looked so much like Rumble after he had a nightmare where Frenzy died. “...negative. Soundwave: Does not believe Prowl to be deceased. Starscream: Would use opportunity of Megatron irrationality to attempt recruitment.” 

Jazz let out a vent, the warm air he’d been holding in raising the temperature of the room. “S-so, he’ll be fine?”

“...Prowl’s safety: Likely. Not guaranteed.” 

“Isn’t everything nowadays, my mech?” 

Soundwave nodded, praying that he was right about Prowl. If Prowl was alive, after all, chances were that Rumble and Frenzy had some more time. 

“Alright. Let’s get back to this mapping stuff!”

The two of them worked silently, side by side, the previous tension in the air melted away. 

A hand came to rest on Soundwave’s shoulder. 

“Hey. Thanks.”

Not looking up from his graphing, Soundwave nodded. “Jazz: Is welcome.” 


	5. Chapter 5

“Why are you doing this?”

“You and I are more similar than you would think, Prowl.”

“Hardly! You’re a seeker!”

“Prowl, Praxians are the closest to seekers that grounders get.”

“Is that why seekers bombed Praxus?”

Starscream snapped his head up, glaring at Prowl. “Come on, you know better! You’re not like the others, you’re smarter than that,” he grabbed the bars of Prowl’s cell and shook them hard, “I know you are!” 

“What are you  _ talking _ about?” 

“Prowl, you, of all mechs, should be able to see through this farce! Primus knows you’d have thought of it too!” 

Prowl remained silent, looking at Starscream as if he had suddenly turned organic. 

Starscream huffed out a harsh sigh. “You and your precious little Autobots played right into his hands! You did exactly what he wanted!”

Prowl shook his head, “You’re hysterical!” 

“No, I’m not. It was all his plan, Prowl, it was! The others were too blind to see it! But I know you aren’t! Think about it! Talk it out, it’s plain as day!” 

“What?”

“Humor me! Why would Megatron attack Praxus?”

“He…” Prowl looked at the ground, “...it didn’t make sense. It wasn’t advantageous in any way. He did it just to be cruel!” 

“He didn’t have a solid air force at the time. It was minimal at best, it was before the big boom of seeker recruitment! What does that mean?”

“...the recruitment boom happened after Vos was destroyed. The seekers felt victimized by the Autobot forces and practically fell over themselves trying to join the Decepticons.” 

“Exactly. What does that  _ mean _ ?”

“...Megatron… he knew that the Autobots would be hard-pressed to accept seekers after an unprovoked attack on Praxus.”

Starscream nodded silently, his eyes glowing with a proud vindication.

“...he wanted it. He wanted us to attack Vos. He wanted us to chase all the seekers off to him.”

“And you all fell for it hook, line, and sinker.”

Prowl couldn’t feel his fuel pump cycle anymore. It was like his entire mind and body has frozen in place, he was so close to crashing that his optics starting spitting static at him. 

“I fought it, Prowl. I fought it as hard as I could. I knew so many of my people would die if so many of yours did. I fought, and so did my trine, but he pushed it anyways. He didn’t let us go, he locked us up that day, and how was I to tell a million seekers that they’d been used as pawns, afterwards?”

“You couldn’t have. There was no possible way…” 

“And what Autobot would have believed the Air Commander had disapproved of an air strike? Who?” Starscream shook the bars harder.

“N-no one…” Prowl grabbed the bars over Starscream’s hands. When had he gotten off the floor? When had he stepped forward towards the despicable seeker?

“I couldn’t break off and start my own faction.”

“Nobody could have. I couldn’t have if I’d have had all the Praxians to ever exist…”

“All I want out of this accursed war is my home back,” Starscream took his hands off the bars, lingering on Prowl’s fingertips, “that’s all. And if you help me, we can get  _ both _ of our homes back. If the Autobots win, they won’t rebuild Vos, and if the Decepticons win, we won’t rebuild Praxus. Autobots and Decepticons have lost peace but Vosnians and Praxians have lost so much more.”

“We lost our homes,” Prowl whispered so low he could barely hear himself. 

“I’m brilliant, I’ve had to be, but I’m not brilliant enough to surpass Megatron. I need help. The only other mech left on this forsaken planet with enough intelligence and enough tolerance to even consider working with me is  _ you _ . No other Autobot understands what we’ve been through, and those who have would never take my word for this. But I know you know better. I know you understand!”

Starscream unlocked the door to his prison and swung the bars open, leaving Prowl free to walk out. He stuck his hand out for Prowl to grab.

“Join me and we can both take back what war has stolen from us. We’re the only ones who can. My trine is blinded by Megatron and your faction is blinded by hate. Help me show them that our people won’t go down like this.”

“Our…” Prowl looked frantically between Starscream’s face and his hands, searching for any indication of betrayal or distrust, “ _ our _ people?”

Starscream nodded. “We’re all the winged ones.” 

Starscream’s hand didn’t retract nor did his stance falter. Prowl didn’t dare move an inch, terrified of the consequences of making the wrong decision. 

“Please. Help me get our home back.”

This went against everything he knew, everything he’d ever learned, all the truths he’d taken for granted as inalienable facts, they were all crushed and destroyed and shattered by Starscream in just these past few moments, so quickly he couldn’t even think-

His hand was in Starscream’s. He gave it a squeeze, just to check if Starscream was real, if all of this was real. 

“Okay.”

Starscream’s wings drooped in a deep relief, tension in his frame melting away. “Thank you. Now, how do you feel about a new set of wings? Would you be willing to lose a few tires for them?”

“Yes, I believe I would.”


End file.
